


Wildflowers

by catmiint



Series: no place for a hero [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Autistic Character(s), Female Friendship, Gen, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmiint/pseuds/catmiint
Summary: Ko'ruri Yukimura never had friends. Not until she accompanied her father to Reunion one day.Or; the Warrior of Light makes her first friend.
Series: no place for a hero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1008621
Kudos: 1





	Wildflowers

**Author's Note:**

> Just some cute meaningless fluff of mine and my gf's WoLs as kids meeting for the first time~ I had a lot of fun writing baby autistic Ko navigating her new friendship ;A;

Ko’ruri was ten years old—finally deemed old enough to help her father Arslan at market. He was the main blacksmith for the Qerel tribe and, among all of the stone-faced warriors, the one most suited to dealing with trade for their tribe. Usually it was Erhi, her half-brother, that helped father buy and sell goods when it was time to go to Reunion, but he would soon be of age and was busy training in preparation for his trial. So, it was up to her to help unpack wares and buy supplies, which she did without a word of complaint falling from her lips. 

There, however, wasn’t much to do after their stall was set up with forged cookware, weapons, and armor, and the shopping list for the day had been accounted for. Her father, a fond hand on the small of her back, told her to go play with the other children. There was a note of amusement in his voice as he said it, as though he knew she would not. She wandered off, weaving between stalls and watching with big, black eyes as the people of Reunion buzzed around like busy bees.

Young Qestir and other children that had been dragged along for tribe errands played in the open field just beyond the gates. Some were wrestling or playing in mock combat with long sticks, while others played a game of tag. The clothing of the other children was a rainbow of colors, denoting the myriad of tribes that the children hailed from. A Qestir sentry kept a lazy eye on the group, just to make sure no wildlife or aggressive warriors came calling.

She considered for a moment joining one of the games or even the play spars, but hesitated before her feet could carry her their direction. Ko’ruri often felt awkward in the games of other children, and she never had made friends easily. Instead, she headed off around the side, making sure to stay within view of the sentry so she didn’t get scolded by her father later when he came looking. The field was fully abloom with spring wildflowers, so she squatted down to pick a bundle of them. Weaving together the stems into shapes was little different from weaving rope or thread. 

Ko wove the wildflowers into a ring that could fit around her head, a crown of deep red and pale pink flowers. As her small but skilled fingers tied the last knot into a stem, she caught sight of another girl about her age twenty paces off sat cross-legged. She too was trying to tie together flower stems to make something, but she had the look of someone who wasn’t quite sure how to make their hands recreate what she’d seen someone else do. Her black hair was shiny and done in two braids across her scalp and down her back, her dark brow furrowed and red eyes gleaming with concentration. 

Throwing a quick glance back down at her hands, she noticed that the flowers woven into her crown matched the other girl’s eyes. It would look quite pretty on top of her head, Ko pondered. In a moment of bravery, Ko’ruri picked herself up off of the ground and trotted over to the other girl. The girl had only just noticed Ko approaching when she plopped the woven flower crown down on the girl’s head.

She blinked rapidly, as if trying to discern if Ko was real, and a hand reached up to feel at the crown on her head. The girl pulled it off to examine and, when seeing what it was, murmured a shocked “Oh!”. Her face was flushed and eyelashes fluttering nervously, but she tentatively placed it back in her hair and looked up at Ko. “Thank you,” came her soft, delicate greeting.

Ko nodded and settled down in the grass beside the girl. She pulled up more flowers and began work on another crown, this one with flowers with pale, purple petals. “Like this,” she rasped, not bothering to raise her voice too much higher above a whisper. The girl with the braids watched Ko’s hand work with the stems and tried to copy it after a few moments. It was a decent attempt just from watching, Ko noted to herself. 

“Oh, um, I’m—” The girl began to stutter, pausing as if to gather courage, and continued, “I’m Sarnai. It’s nice to—nice to meet you.” Her eyes didn’t meet Ko’s, which was alright with her. 

Again, Ko nodded. Then, a moment passed and she looked up from her weaving. There was an expectant look on Sarnai’s face.  _ Oh _ . Ko’ruri realized that she was waiting for her name. “Ko’ruri,” she muttered simply.

“Ko’ruh—rue—ree?” The name slipped oddly from Sarnai’s mouth, her tongue stumbling over the Doman noises. Her nose crinkled and confusion crossed her face. 

“The tribe calls me Ko,” she supplied after another moment of awkward silence, feeling a press to help the other girl out, “but my brother calls me Rue.”   
  


“Rue… that’s a cute name,” Sarnai all but whispered, seeming relieved at being saved from the embarrassment of not being able to pronounce the foreign name. 

“If you call me Rue, then it would be like you’re my sister.” 

Sarnai’s eyes sparkled at that, “I don’t have a sister!” The notion of siblings seemed to excite her, and Ko’s usually hard expression softened (it wasn’t like she  _ tried  _ to look so stoic all the time, but she struggled sometimes to imitate the faces that her kinsmen made to emote). 

“I don’t either, just my brother,” she paused and felt the strange need to clarify, “Er… half-brother.” She always felt as if she had to clarify her and her brother’s relationship lest someone assume he was half Raen as well. Almost like an apology for her heritage. 

“Oh!” Sarnai’s eyes were round, “He has a different dad?” 

Ko blinked, head tipping to the side. “No.” She said quickly and bluntly,and then realized she should have softened her tone based on the withering, watery look Sarnai adopted. “I mean, uh, my father’s over there,” she pointed at his stall where he was selling forged weapons and hide armor, “mother was Raen. Erhi’s mother was Xaela.” As if to make a point, Ko tapped her white horns.

Sarnai’s soft round face seemed to soften even more in… confusion? Ko wasn’t sure why the girl was confused, but figured it must have to do with her Raen mother. People in the tribe always acted strangely about Ko’ruri not being of full Xaela blood, and the idea it might be the same for this girl settled oddly in her chest. She couldn’t identify the feeling at the moment, but later in life would find it was the familiar sensation of shame. Shame for her being half-blooded. 

After a few seconds, though, the other girl’s expression changed and was cautiously happy again. Whatever confusion seemed to have passed, instead replaced by the sort of joy she was trying to keep from bubbling up without much success. “I’ve always wanted a sister,” she nearly giggled, “Mom said she was too busy with khan duties to have another child.”

So her mother was the khan of her clan? Ko filed that information away and did her best to smile at her. “We can be sisters, then.” She offered tentatively in her quiet, raspy voice. 

“Sisters!” Sarnai clapped her hands together and was beaming ear to ear. Her lips then pursed as a thought crossed her mind, “But are you my older or younger sister?”

Ko’ruri furrowed her brow as she thought about how many summers it had been since coming to the Steppe when she was seven. Three, had it been? “I’m ten.” 

A hand went up to her mouth as if to cover her smile, “I’m eleven—and a half.”

_ Really?  _ Ko thought to herself. Her features were so delicate and soft, and she stood half a hand shorter that Ko could have sworn she was the younger one. She huffed a bit, blowing a lock of white hair away from her face and crossing her arms over her chest. 

Sarnai couldn’t help but let out a quiet, breathy giggle at her grumpy reaction. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the best big sister you could have!” 

Ko’ruri didn’t have a response so she stuck out her tongue, knowing that her father would give her a swat on the rear for such rudeness. Her hands tied the last knot into flower stems, finishing a second crown of wildflowers that she placed in her own hair. “There,” she declared, “Now we match.”

“We’re like khans of the market now with our crowns,” Sarnai preened. 

“Don’t the Qestir have a khan?” Ko questioned, tipping her head to the side. 

“Shhh,” she hushed her, “It’s a game!”

“Oh!” Ko blinked as she understood and tried to smile, “How do we play?” 

Sarnai got to her feet and grabbed Ko’ruri’s hand, pulling her back towards Reunion. They passed the gaggle of children playing tag by the gates and slipped back in. “As khans of the market, if we ask then sometimes the food vendors will sneak us a treat,” she explained in an exaggerated whisper as if their plans could be overheard at any moment. 

Ko nodded and followed Sarnai on the tips of her toes. They snuck around to the backs of the stalls and crept towards a tall hyur man selling sweet breads and pastries. The girls politely waited a few moments while the man finished handing a loaf of bread over to a customer. As they tiptoed forward, he caught sight of them in his peripheral vision and turned with a lopsided smile. “Sarnai! What a pleasure to see your face again,” he called out. She must be a common fixture in Reunion for the man to recognize her. “I see you have a friend with you this time.” 

The word  _ friend  _ nestled in her chest comfortably like a bird in its nest. Ko’ruri liked the word. 

“Rue and I are khans of the market,” Sarnai began, trying to sound commanding by her shy demeanor softening her tone, “and we need ti —tife— _ tithes  _ from our people.” She flushed when she stumbled over pronouncing her words, but the hyur man seemed to make no notice of the mistake. 

“Well  _ of course _ ,” he nodded and turned to rummage through his goods. A beat passed and he produced two pastry rolls, sticky with honey. He held the rolls out, and Sarnai grabbed them both. 

She handed one to Ko’ruri as she spoke, “Thank you, sir! Your khans will remember this kindness.” Sarnai then bowed low, her tail sticking out straight behind her. 

Ko copied her quickly before the two ran away from the man’s stall with their goods. Now out of view, they made eye contact and broke into pleased laughter. After catching her breath, Ko bit into the honeyed bread and hummed at how it tasted. The pastry was flaky and the honey contained chopped up tree nuts. She hadn’t had a treat like this since they celebrated her brother’s last nameday. 

They had just finished their treats, giggling in between bites, when a deep voice called out Sarnai’s name. She straightened up and, after licking honey from her fingertips, pulled Ko’ruri in the direction of the voice. She explained quickly that her dad must be leaving Reunion soon, and Ko bobbed her head in understanding, although it stung a bit that their time together would come to a close. 

When they found her father, he scooped her up into his arms and pressed rapid kisses to her cheeks, to which Sarnai squealed in response. “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!” She complained, her cheeks flaming red as her eyes flicked to where Ko’ruri stood.

“I missed you though,” the man responded with a hearty chuckle. He pressed one last kiss to her forward and put her back on her feet. His gaze fell behind her and locked onto Ko. “And who is this?”

“This is my new friend Rue,” Sarnai announced proudly, as if presenting a fat hare she caught herself or a newly finished handcraft. 

“A friend?” He asked, taken aback. His eyes widened and sparkled, almost seeming wet in the corners as if he was tearing up. 

“Mhm,” she hummed and linked her elbow with Ko’s. “Rue, this is my dad Altan!” 

Ko’ruri spoke softly in her rasping voice, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Her father had taught her to be polite to strangers, especially friendly strangers from other tribes lest they take a turn towards the less friendly.

“And polite too!” Altan looked ecstatic at the concept of Sarnai bringing a  _ friend  _ to him, and Ko’ruri squirmed under his intense gaze. 

She felt like she should say something, so she offered, “I’m from the Qerel tribe.” 

“The Qerel tribe? Well, we’ll have to write often, won’t we?” He told her enthusiastically.

  
“Daaad,” Sarnai whined, tugging at his sleeve. She seemed either annoyed or flustered that he was speaking for her.

“I can’t help but be excited for my little girl,” Altan gushed. He wrapped her up in his arms once again and squeezed her tight to his chest. She squirmed in protest, but her face shone with happy contentment at her father’s affection. 

When she was released, she went to give Ko a hug and said, “Be sure to come back to Reunion soon so we can see each other! I always come with my dad.” 

“This was my first time here,” Ko’ruri admitted, “but I’ll come more often.” 

Sarnai grinned and waved goodbye before she trotted along with her father back to pack up their stall. Ko watched her for a moment, a ghost of a smile on her lips, before she turned to find her own father. He had sold a good amount of his wares, and Ko crawled onto an empty crate to look up at him. “I made a friend,” Ko told her dad, unblinking.

Arslan startled when she spoke, not having noticed her before then, but his expression quickly turned fond. He smiled and ruffled her hair, “Of course you did, my little Ko.” He didn’t seem to believe her, so she pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I did!” She insisted, “She’s a khan’s daughter, although, um, I forgot to ask what tribe.” 

Her father blinked, coming around to believing her and shocked. “Be sure she stays your friend then. We don’t want another tribe to come tearing down our yurts.” 

“I like her,” she said plainly although there was uncharacteristic warmth in her usually even-toned voice, “I want to be friends forever.” 


End file.
